I met Harry Evans in year six.
At the time I didn't know how much I would grow to enjoy his presence. But now, after so long, I understand my feelings for him.
Maybe all those insignificant glances across the classroom, and all those lighthearted words that we spoke to each other really did mean something.
The last time I saw him was at the end of year six. With our messily-signed year school T-shirts on, we sprinted aimlessly through the human tunnel made by our younger peers. When we came free from that tunnel, our hands slapped crimson from the high-fives, we embraced in our individual cliques.
I was upset to leave my school; the school I'd attended for an entirety of seven years, but I was further upset by the fact that I wouldn't be able to sit beside Harry anymore in class and see the way he threw his head back when he laughed. Or when he talked passionately about England. Or when he…
But I see him now.
The playground was overflowing with laughter and excitement, and now the pool deck is exploding with that same thrill; the thrill of possibility.
I see him now.
At the time, I glanced his way and watched him chuckle while his friends goofed off around him. And now, he's swimming in the pool with nothing but swimming boxers on, throwing his head back to take a deep breath as he comes to the surface.
Beneath my feet, the ship's engine rumbles. All around me there's a constant hum of the thousands of conversations on this boat, and I'm reminded of the playground on the first day of year six.
When I was called into Class 6A that day, I stood beside him for the first time. I reminisce about the intense urge I had to glance up and count every single freckle on his face.
I think I may have sighed aloud because he was suddenly turning towards me, and my heartbeat was definitely beating so much faster than necessary for survival.
"Hi," I said to him.
Smiling, he replied, "Hi."
I mentally face-palmed myself.
'Hi'? Really, Tasmin?
I barely knew his name, but the moment he turned to look at me, I felt that him and I had known each other for a long time. And I didn't know that the year to come would see us doing practically everything in class together. Not because we were asked to, or because we were partnered together by the teacher, but because chance made the decision to place us side-by-side in every coincidence possible.
"It is the first day of school, so please spend some time getting to know the peers beside you," my new teacher announced, allowing us to chat.
I could practically picture the heat radiating off of my face as we slowly faced each other. I took a deep breath in.
Okay. Calm down, Taz. You can do this. Just… say hi.
I remember looking up abruptly, locking eye-contact with him. But this time I didn't falter with my words.
"So… You're new?" I started fiddling with my hair, for good measure.
"Yeah, I am."
I cleared my throat. Was that an accent?
"How's um… everything been so far? Do you like it?" Still nervous.
"It's been really great. Everyone's very nice and wow, your playground is so big." Harry replied, beaming.
I nodded uncontrollably, then decided to cure my curiosity.
"Are you… British?" I asked.
"Can you tell?"
"Just a bit." I explained, squinting and holding up my thumb and index finger and leaving a small gap of space to indicate what I meant by 'just a bit'.
Chuckling softly, Harry continued, "Yeah, I'm half. That's where I came from. I moved in the… summer holidays… this Christmas. Also, I had no idea that summer temperatures here could reach forty degrees celsius! I was melting!"
Smiling to myself, I took all the information I had just heard before asking, "You're right! It gets so hot here! But what's it like in England?"
Harry smirked. "It's mostly rain, all year round. To be completely honest, I only remember a few times when the day could be considered unbearably hot. And even so, that hot weather only lasted about half a day before a storm rolled in. It's quite sad, actually."
His voice is so nice, I thought to myself.
Throughout that year, I think I made a true friend. I didn't understand why we had been put together so often in class. We were often put side-by-side or near each other in the seating plans assigned, partners on excursions, marking each other's work in class, and even dancing a very… unusual folk dance on camp. I could go on; the list is endless.
Time flies by when you're having fun.
I can agree with this statement, because every moment that year was precious to me, but it was all over in a flash. A nice flash. One that I enjoyed. One that I would revisit if I could.
Leaving the school meant leaving behind all those memories, and that hurt. It hurt a lot. Hell, I felt guilty for barely saying goodbye to anyone because I was too busy contemplating whether or not to ask for Harry's number. But all my brain could think at the time was…
No. Don't. People will start thinking things.
I remember looking over at him after exiting the tunnel made by my peers. He was happy, he was laughing. He didn't seem fazed that I was upset. He didn't seem to realise that those last few minutes before the bell rang its final toll that it would be likely, no, certain, that we would never see each other again. That every memory would start to fade the moment we stepped out the front gates.
The last day of year six was like an ending to my favourite chapter of my favourite novel. Bitter-sweet. Happy to have read the entirety, met and fell-in-love with the characters, but devastated because there was no chapter afterwards.